


Worn

by hepatica



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: M/M, That's it, old man sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-22
Updated: 2016-02-22
Packaged: 2018-05-22 15:27:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6084930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hepatica/pseuds/hepatica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Their meetings had been scarce over thirty years, but nothing seemed to change much.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Worn

There was almost nothing worse than a government soirée. Packed to the walls with politicians, officers, and other liars, the place smelled disgusting. But Big Boss had an image to maintain, so he sipped wine and pretended like he remembered the names of people who came up to him.

Some policy director was speaking with him - or to him, considering how Big Boss let his eye roam over the crowd rather than listen. He was searching for someone, always was. And in the soft, low light of the room Big Boss found him, leaning against a wall and looking bored out of his mind. Their eyes met, and Ocelot gave him a slow, patient smile. If his hands hadn't been tucked away he might have gestured. _Come get me._

Another man had wormed his way through the crowd to Ocelot before Big Boss reached him; he laid a hand on the man’s shoulder to let him know his time was up almost as soon as it began.

“Bit bossy, aren't we?” Ocelot remarked as the man moved on, looking disappointed. Closer, Big Boss could see Ocelot’s hair was longer and he sported a trim mustache. He looked a little wild, years of mercenary work hardening his gaze. Big Boss might be scared of that erratic intensity if he was a coward - if Ocelot wasn't his.

“Didn't get the name for nothing,” Big Boss replied for the benefit of an eavesdropper. 

They left early for a hotel room where they could enjoy each others company at leisure. Big Boss admired the skin on Ocelot’s back as they kissed, the heaviness of his bones as he pushed Big Boss down; the feel of his cock in his hand and later inside him, heavy and hot as he pumped between his thighs. _That_ at least felt the same.

They lay together, Ocelot kissing and nipping at his throat, savouring the taste. He’d always liked to take his time with Big Boss’s body, and Big Boss was content to let him do it this time, feeling tired and sore in unusual places.

“Until we meet again,” Ocelot said after, gesturing with the cigarette Big Boss had given him. Their meetings had been scarce over thirty years, but nothing seemed to change much. 

\--

 

 

John missed his youth. Life hadn’t seemed so terrible back then, sprawled out unfathomably long before him, The Boss still at his side. 

But he decided old age suited Ocelot. Youth had seemed overwhelming for him, made him tense and lash out like a whip. Now, he seemed at peace. He supposed that the further Ocelot grew from that powerless childhood, the more content he was. Right now he was instructing a kid on how to use his gun, parroting back snippets of advice he’d been given years before. His voice was rougher now, and his decades old duster was starting to look as worn as the rest of him, but Big Boss still heard traces of that kid using a revolver for the first time in Ocelot’s tone.

Big boss watched him fondly. Aside from finally settling into his skin, he’d barely changed. Something kept Ocelot rooted in a timeless age, where an antiquated handgun and unmatched devotion was enough to pit him against modern technology and 90s cynicism. Big Boss couldn't be sure what that concept was, but when Ocelot still looked at him with the same passion he had as a young man, he had an idea.

Big Boss couldn't help himself.

“Junior,” he said, ruffling Ocelot's hair. Ocelot whined and pushed him off, but he didn't look displeased.

 

\--

 

When Venom’s Outer Heaven fell, Ocelot was there to whisk John away. He was taking a risk helping Big Boss slip from Cipher's radar like this, but he’d always been one to put his neck out for his old friend.

"Please, stop insulting me," Ocelot said in good humour when Big Boss worried at him. "Is this what you call a fake passport? Cipher's got all sorts of tech to sniff rats out these days.” Prepared as usual, he pulled one out of his coat pocket. "Here you go, Mr Green."

Big Boss flipped it open. "Huh. Do I look like a Samuel Green to you?"  
  
"No, you look like a man wasting time over a name. Or did you miss me that much? Now go on, get,” Ocelot said.

"You're not coming with?"  
  
"Can’t. I’m still the Patriots’ best man, after all.” Ocelot clapped John’s shoulder. "Good luck, my friend. We’ll see each other again.”

It was always said between them, and always upheld, but it got harder to hear each time. Big Boss watched his comrade’s figure fade into the night with some regret. 

 

\--

 

He found Ocelot again on the battlefield, revolver gleaming in his hand as his horse reared.

 _“Shalashaska!”_ somebody cried out, in fear or relief Big Boss couldn't be sure - it all sounded the same to him these days. The battle was won easily with Ocelot’s arrival, and after conferring with his men Big Boss retired to his tent, nursing a wounded arm. His recovery rate wasn’t so flash in his sixties, and he couldn’t help but wonder how many years his bones had left in them. He’d beg for death before he used a bedpan.

Big Boss knew who was at the tent flap before he even slipped in.

“You were something else out there,” Big Boss said around his cigar as Ocelot got to his knees beside him. He watched with interest as Ocelot plucked the cigar from his fingers and took a drag of his own.

“Didn't anyone tell you it's bad form to smoke indoors?” Ocelot asked, keeping the cigar.

“It's my tent.”

“It's almost your _nation_.” Ocelot looked warm as he leant in close, John’s thumb stroking his cheek. “You looked magnificent, out there with your men."

Big Boss didn't know what Ocelot had done with the cigar, but it hardly mattered. He cupped the back of Ocelot's head and pulled him down to meet his lips, tasting smoke and blood.

Ocelot indulged himself before pulling away. “How's your back?”

Big Boss grunted dismissively. Ocelot turned him on his stomach and started kneading his muscles. As the adrenaline wore off his body began to hurt, but Ocelot’s careful massaging was doing wonders. He could have lain there for hours if it wasn’t for Ocelot’s obvious erection pressing into his back.

“Getting a bit excited back there?” he asked, propping himself up on his elbow.

Ocelot rubbed against him, laughing softly. “You know how it is for me after a good fight.”

Big Boss found the energy to throw Ocelot off and pull the clothes from his body. He wanted this, for the first time in a long time. Ocelot laid back, letting Big Boss slide his fingers in. He was sensitive, shuddering as Big Boss rubbed at his prostate, curling his fingers up just right to get him moaning.

“Gonna cum,” Ocelot breathed, hand covering his face. He squirmed as Big Boss worked him hard before pulling out to slick his own cock.

On his back, pale stomach crossed with old scars and yielding to him as he always had, Ocelot was exactly the kind of fuck he was looking for. But it wasn’t so easy getting as hard as he wanted, so Ocelot reached out for him with an accepting smile.

“Not bad,” Ocelot noted, eyes on Big Boss’s dick, swollen and heavy in his grip. _For an old man,_ Big Boss knew Ocelot wanted to say, but he wasn't exactly young either. Unable to help himself, Ocelot gave him a good few sucks before lying back down, lips wet and looking hungry.

“All right, Boss,” Ocelot said, spreading his thighs invitingly. "Go for it."

And that had done it. Ocelot groaned loud as he pushed in, pulled him forward by his hips and rutted. He’d never been one for tenderness in bed - a hard, artless fuck was more his style. Ocelot praised him for his big dick anyway, and right now he was more than enjoying it, biting his lip and making wanton sounds. Big Boss didn't care if they were overheard - he’d heard the rumours about them and didn’t care to dispel those either. They could walk in on him balls-deep in his old comrade and he still wouldn't care. Nothing mattered in this moment more than how hot and tight Ocelot was, how he was breathing and shifting around his cock; the feeling of his firm thigh under Big Boss's hand, Ocelot's hands sliding adoringly over Big Boss's chest and rubbing at his nipples. Ocelot had always been easy, so easy. Big Boss pushed their bodies closer together, wanting to let him know that. _You always did good by me._

Orgasm wasn't so easily won in Big Boss’s age or malaise either, but Ocelot knew how to compensate, rolling his hips and scratching Big Boss’s skin with blunt fingernails just as Big Boss liked. And Ocelot was goading him on, begging for his Boss to hurry up and cum, fill him up with what he'd been missing so long. 

Big Boss came with a grunt to the sound of Ocelot's deference. There wasn't so much cum these days, but Ocelot was sure to milk it all out of him, tightening around his cock as the last of his pleasure washed over. Spent, he got his hand on Ocelots dick and helped him finish off - he still turned pink and squeezed his eyes shut like he had as a kid, just like when Snake had jacked him off for the first time.

Ocelot was resting on an elbow, watching Big Boss pull himself back together. He brushed over the wound on Big Boss’s arm with the back of his hand.

“Consider yourself lucky,” Big Boss said, “I don't even whip it out for myself these days.”

Ocelot grinned. “It's a privilege and an honour, Boss. I’ll be sure to give you a few years to get it back up.”

Big Boss grumbled at Ocelot’s teasing, then at how he was kissing his cheek like he was twenty years old all over again. Some things wouldn’t change.

 

**Author's Note:**

> updating another fic is taking years off my life, and I've been waiting to write old dudes banging since I got into this ship. If you want me I'm (sometimes) on tumblr under hepaticas


End file.
